


Protect Jillian Holtzmann Always

by jilliangilbert



Category: Ghostbusters (2016)
Genre: Angst, Artificial Insemination, Backstory, Cuddles, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Friendship/Love, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, Pain, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-08
Updated: 2016-08-09
Packaged: 2018-08-07 12:27:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 5,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7714861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jilliangilbert/pseuds/jilliangilbert
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This fic is eventual Holtzbert so if you're here for that, hold on, it's coming :) It is a lot of Holtz' backstory with Abby (I love their friendship!) and it leads into Holtzbert where the sequel has much more of Erin and Jillian, but I hope you'll stick with this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Jillian's Smile

Jillian has been sitting at her work table for hours, her blond curls framing her face, tongue sticking out as she puts the finishing touches on her latest invention. Her brow furrows and Patty can’t help but notice how sweet she looks.

After nearly losing her a few months back in the window incident with Rowan, Patty feels even more protective over Holtz. She can’t stand the thought of what would have happened if she hadn’t been there to save both Holtz and Abby. The tall woman blinks away the image that haunts her most frequently, of Holtz having fallen two stories, bleeding out on the asphalt, shards of glass surrounding her crumpled body.

Patty inhales sharply and Holtz looks up and smiles.

“Hey baby,” Patty says sweetly, “You hungry?”

Jillian’s smile widens, “Starved.”

“Well, it’s nearly 6:00PM, why don’t we take a dinner break?”

Jill loves to cook. They have a high-tech, yet delightful kitchenette all set up in the new firehouse.

Patty went ahead and began boiling the water for pasta and prepping/slicing vegetables for the sauce, but she knew Holtz would want to make dinner.

This girl…always making stuff. Like she is going to just invent the world right into being every new day. Making, making, making... Patty thinks to herself, smiling.

“You want me to finish, Holtzy? You’ve been working all day—“

“No! No…thank you.” Holtz stammers.

Patty laughs and shakes her head.

“I love to cook. Let me.” Holtz winks.

“I know, Little Bit. It’s waiting for you to put it together, so get to it. I’m hungry too.”

“Thank you, My Lady.”

Holtz throws her arms around the historian’s waist and nuzzles her cheek into Patty’s chest. She feels so safe and secure in Patty’s embrace. She knows what would have happened had Patty not been there that day with Rowan and Abby.

“I got you baby!” still reverberates in Jillian’s ears, along with the feeling of being caught.

She still becomes overwhelmed with gratitude when she thinks about how Patty held onto her and pulled her to safety. She has never had more of a reason to live than she does right now. She’s so thankful for Patty’s friendship—for becoming part of her family—and for saving her life. Jillian pulls away from the tight embrace, but not before putting her grease-stained hands on Patty’s shoulders and standing on her tip-toes to kiss the brown-eyed woman on the cheek with a loud smack.

“Thanks, Patty. Dinner will be ready soon!”

 


	2. Lonely Girl

Jill had not always wanted to live. There was a time when plunging head first out of that two-story window would have taken her out of the deep pain she felt everyday—the hollow feeling in her belly. She had grown up in foster care, and once, was so close to being adopted by a religious family until the mother found a fifteen year old Jillian masturbating to Dana Scully in the X-Files. The parents sent her to a Conversion Therapy Rehabilitation Center and never came back for her. They didn’t want their biological children defiled by homosexuality.

The deep shame and humiliation Jill suffered was excruciating. She missed her new family even though they had rejected and abandoned her. She longed for a mom to hold her. At eighteen, Jill was let go from the foster system. No longer a ward of the state, she was completely on her own. The only thing that saved her was her brain. She was an incredible student. She got accepted into both the undergraduate Physics and Engineering programs at MIT and moved her backpack, telescope, and broken heart into the dormitory.

Conversion Therapy hadn’t worked ( _huge surprise_ ) and she hated herself for it, becoming so frustrated at her inability to change and become what she considered normal. She would hit herself, using her knuckles to make bruises into her thighs. Digging her nails into her forearms until crescent moon shaped marks were embedded. But then, little by little, she gained some confidence. Her schoolwork brought her joy. She developed a crush on her physics professor, Dr. Rebecca Maxine Gorin. She let herself feel the pleasure in enjoying this crush. She stopped hitting herself over it.

One night, when she was twenty-two and just beginning her Master’s degree, young Jillian found herself alone in her new apartment across from the school. She thought about Dr. Gorin, as she climbed into a bubble bath, and began to touch herself. She hadn’t let herself masturbate since that humiliating incident many years ago—such a pure and innocent discovery for a young girl, she now realized without shame. She felt so elated, butterflies in her tummy, as she pictured Dr. Gorin’s cheeky grin and tight button down shirts. She began stroking herself, soft little gasps escaping her mouth. She arched her back, letting the soapy water wash over her bare breasts. She pushed two her fingers inside her opening as she felt her first orgasm roll over her. Even with her ears underwater, she heard herself moan. When she caught her breath, she giggled, licking her lips, and feeling freer than ever. 

Jill continued to make time for self-care, like bubble baths and dancing in her favorite underwear (high-waisted peach ones with a lavender unicorn on the front) and quit feeling guilty for her sexuality. She began learning to accept herself.

Out in the world, though, she still felt like an outsider and a freak. She was highly misunderstood. Her unique quirks paired with her striking doll-like features left people around her unsure how to take her. The men in her program would hit on her. Not realizing their intentions, poor Holtz ended up in some precarious situations. An unsolicited hand creeping up her thigh, unwanted staring at her breasts. The few women in her department thought her eccentricities were a cry for attention. Sadly, society conditions women to compete for male attention, to be mild and subdued, and to be happy with fallen crumbs, when Jillian wanted the whole pie.

She had trouble understanding this double-standard. It’s not that she was incapable of understanding it. It’s just that her pure spirit couldn’t wrap her mind around the knowledge that she, Jillian, was born into a world not made for her to exist or succeed. The world wanted her married to a man, teaching school or becoming a nurse, rearing children, and behaving with mild manners. _Not_ setting the world on fire with this eclectic personality she possessed.

So she hid away.

She poured herself into her studies more and more. She felt alive when she was inventing and creating. She grew to love Dr. Rebecca Gorin, not just as a crush, but with a deep admiration and respect. But when the ceremony to award her with her doctorate came, Jill realized just how alone she really was. No one was there to see her walk across the stage. No one was there with flowers or waiting with a hug to give or a celebration party to take her to afterward. Her heart sank. The emptiness inside of her felt overwhelming.


	3. Full-Moon

The loneliness got Jill thinking…maybe one of the five things society relegates women to, maybe one of those things she could do. Maybe she could be a mom. How hard could it be? She loved to make things. Maybe she could make something that would want her; that _she_ could accept and nurture. She set about this in true Jillian fashion. She went to a sperm bank. She selected a donor. Bought an insemination tool. Began tracking her ovulation cycle and marked her most fertile day on the chalkboard calendar hanging in her apartment. She decided to wait for the first full moon after she’d gotten thru with her period to try to conceive. On a cool autumn evening, the stars aligned—full moon and fully fertile.

“Perfect,” she thought. She walked home from the Kenneth P. Higgins Institute of Science, where she would soon meet Abby Yates, and where she had gotten her first job after a botched internship at NASA upon graduating from MIT. As she walked, she noticed her hands were shaking. She wrapped her arms around herself, realizing she was blinking back tears. Did she really want to do this? Bring a child into the world? Or was it just something she felt would give her life, as a woman, meaning? She couldn’t decide. The biology behind it all felt exciting—like a new experiment—she decided. And it was also her only chance at a connection. She knew no one would ever choose to be with her, the concept was totally foreign to the young scientist. She was so scared this painful loneliness would consume her. She ached for touch, for companionship.

When she got home, she lit a few candles, took out one of her blue and pink swirled homemade bath bombs, and took a nice hot bubble bath. Closing her eyes and taking deep breaths, relaxing all of her muscles. After her bath, she took the canister of sperm from the freezer and sterilized her insemination tool. Her bright blue eyes were as wide as saucers—was she really about to try and impregnate herself?

“This is wild, Jill, can’t you maybe get a cat?” she mumbled to herself.

She felt an icy chill run up her spine.

“Quit being a baby, Jillian. Suck it up. Let’s go.”

She propped some pillows up on the couch and laid with her lower back on the pillows, her head on the armrest with a perfect view of a movie-sized poster of Agent Dana Scully. She smirked and took another deep breath. Leaning back, she spread open her thighs and inserted the tool inside of herself.

“Ouch,” she whimpered. This did not feel good at all. It was so cold and devoid of all intimacy. She felt sterile and lonely and empty, but she squeezed the bulb on the end of the tool, eyes locked with Scully, as she felt the sticky substance spill inside of her cervix. She closed her eyes as a tear ran down her cheek. What was she doing? Was this truly her only way out of being alone forever? She decided right then if this didn’t work, she wasn’t trying again. That thought brought…relief surprisingly.

She wiped her eyes and slid into her favorite pair of sleeping shorts and long mint-green shirt with a bright gold and pink nebula on it. She clasped the Screw-U pendant Dr. Gorin had given her between her fingers and tossed the rest of the sperm into the trash. Then, she made pineapple pizza and turned on her favorite song at the moment, an Ani Difranco track, and went to work on her newest invention, feeling some inner peace creeping back in.


	4. Abby

Two months passed and Jill had forgotten about the whole ordeal. She was really starting to find her groove at the Institute. She was tinkering at her desk, when she started to feel nauseated. She ran to the bathroom and barely made it over to the toilet. “Maybe it’s my period,” she thought. Sometimes her cramps were so bad, they caused her to throw-up. Then it hit her. “Waaaait, when was my last period?” She couldn’t remember. She rinsed her mouth, headed back to the lab and pulled out her calendar. Bam, two months ago. Had she forgotten to write it down last month? Oh God…she can’t be, can she?

She didn’t bother with any at home test. She knew they were faulty. She went straight to the clinic and requested a full exam. The OBGYN did a vaginal exam, an ultrasound, and bloodwork. Jillian was eight weeks pregnant and totally terrified. What had she done?

She walked home and fell on the couch sobbing. Jill hadn’t cried like this since she was a little girl. But here she was, sobbing like a child. Thirty years old, and completely alone, except for the creature she held in her womb.

“Deep breaths, Jill” she told herself. “Deep breaths, you’re okay.” She had seven more months. 32 more weeks. She’d get used to it by then, she lied to herself. So, she went about her life. She was just more…careful. She bought pre-natal vitamins. She poured out all the alcohol in her house. She bought a cookbook with home-made organic recipes. She really did love to cook. It soothed her. The sauces simmering over the orange and blue flame. Slicing up baby carrots…a baby…she was going to have a _baby_.

Another month went by, the fetus was 12 weeks old now. Jillian still wasn’t showing but her breasts became tender and her pants were becoming a little snug. She avoided walking down alley ways or taking short cuts where she knew people were smoking cigarettes. Another month passed. 16 weeks now. In one more month she would be able to find out the sex. It was becoming more real. Now at four months though, her belly showed just a bit, a tiny bump. One morning, she got up, twisted her messy gold curls into her signature style and felt a remarkable sensation in her uterus. Like twenty hummingbirds were set free inside of her. She gasped and placed her and over her bump. “I feel you,” she cooed.

She left the house with a smile. She was scared but she also _felt_ something…someone. She was now aware that she wasn’t alone. She had two hearts beating in her body. She pulled her yellow goggles over her eyes as she stared up into the winter New York sun. As a kid, she loved looking at the sun, the way it burned bright and kept her warm. She had to learn to protect her eyes so she wouldn’t go blind from looking at Earth’s closest star—hence, the goggles.

When she got to the Institute, she learned she was being assigned to a different department. And that’s when she met her—Abby Yates—with her warm and infectious laugh, navy blue eyes, and wide open heart.

“Abby Yates, Doctor of Particle Physics,” Abby introduced herself.

“I’m, uh, I’m Holtzmann,” Jillian stuttered.

“Fantastic!” Abby smiled. “I heard you graduated from MIT. I read your Thesis, front to back. I gotta say, I don’t know why somebody as brilliant as you chose to work at this shit hole, but I am truly honored to be in your presence. I think you and I are gonna make magic happen, Holtzy, my friend. You mind if I call you that? Holtzy?” Abby cocked her head to the side, studying the tiny engineer.

Jillian nodded, blushing hot pink cheeks, dimples showing. Before she could stop herself, she had dropped her clipboard and wrapped Abby in the tightest hug Jillian had ever experienced. It felt like coming home. Abby hugged her back, laughing.

“Okay then!” Abby exclaimed. “Let’s get started. Say…do you believe in ghosts?”


	5. Magic

Abby and Holtzmann’s first month together flew by at lightning speed. Jillian had never in her life felt this alive or this happy. She was so happy! Abby made her laugh constantly. Holtz was like a treasure box, Abby thought. A delightful, charming, hilarious, and fiercely loyal treasure box. The department head tried to transfer Holtz again—for better pay—but she refused. She had put her hand around Abby’s shoulders and proclaimed, “This is my partner. This is where I belong. We are making magic,” and gone right back to work on building a proton pack for a paranormal entity Abby had yet to prove even existed. Tears stung Abby’s eyes. “I believe in you, Abs!” Jillian yelled over the whirring of her machines. Gratitude filled Abby’s heart for the eccentric engineer.

It was January and Jillian typically wore oversized overalls and trench coats to work, but today, she removed her outerwear wearing just a thin cotton long sleeve, V-neck under her paint splattered overalls, making her five and a half month belly visible on her tiny frame. Abby noticed and then tried not to stare, unable to figure out if she should ask. Before she had time to decide whether to let Holtz bring it up or just blurt it out, Jillian winced, dropping her pliers and cupping underneath her belly.

“Holtz!” Abby flew to her side. “Are you—"

“I think she’s kicking,” Holtz panted. “I’ve felt it before, but not like this.” Holtzmann looked at Abby with those saucer-like blue eyes.

“You’re, uh, you’re pregnant?” Abby stammered. “Are you marri- married? I mean do you? Are—“

“No,” Holtz shook her head. “I’m crazy. I did this myself. Sperm bank. Not sure what I was think—Ooo, ah, there she goes again.” Holtz moved her hand to the side of her bump.

“She?” Abby asked, in awe of her brave, beautiful friend.

“Yeah. Baby girl. Found out yesterday. Doc said I should feel stronger kicks soon. Guess he meant real soon.” Jill continued, “Are you – freaked out? Should I have told you? Do – would you – I understand if you want a partner who’s not harboring a fetus. A dude, perhaps?”

“You are crazy, Holtzy,” Abby smiled. “I wouldn’t trade you for all the dudes in the galaxy. I – I love you too much, Jillian.”

Jill couldn’t find the words to say it back. She was too overcome with some new all-encompassing emotion she’d never experienced. No one had ever told her they loved her. She wasn’t sure she fully understood the concept.

So instead of speaking, she took Abby’s hand and placed it over her belly. The two friends sat feeling the little creature inside Holtzmann kick and turn somersaults for the rest of the afternoon, giggling and marveling at the universe in motion.


	6. Unconditional

Holtz didn’t feel quite as scared anymore about the baby coming. Not with Abby in her life. She still wasn’t sure what she had gotten herself into, but she had seen this show on TV once, where a lady with a truly hideous hairstyle and horrible long dresses had _twenty_ kids. If this badly dressed woman raised twenty kids, Holtz could raise one…right? This is just what women did, right? Raise kids?

Abby had started to come over to her place after work for home-cooked meals. One evening, Abby said, “What’s her name going to be, Holtzy?” Holtz had been putting this off. She was over six months along, but…a name made it real in a deeper way. She also wished she’d had a mother to name her daughter after. Her first case worker had given her the name Jillian. Jillian Marie…and she loved her name. ‘Holtzmann’ was the last name she had chosen for herself when she turned eighteen. She’d been saddled with different foster families’ last names before that, and _Holtzmann’s Candy Factory_ , where she spent her ninth birthday, was one of the only good childhood memories she had.

Holtz shrugged in reply to Abby’s question. Stirring their dinner and cooing to her tummy, “What do you think Baby Girl Holtzmann…what’s your name?”

Suddenly she knew. The closest person to a mother she’d known was her college mentor, Dr. Rebecca Gorin. I mean, there could be some confusing Freudian mom stuff there as well considering the massive crush she had on her, but truly, this woman had nurtured her passion for science. She owed her. It was Rebecca’s middle name that Jillian knew was the right fit—Maxine, well sort of:

“Max,” Jillian said beaming. “Her name is Max Abigail Holtzmann.” Abby couldn’t hold back the water works spilling down her cheeks.

“That’s, that’s a beautiful name, Holtzy. And I’m not just being biased!” She exclaimed laughing with joy, getting up to wrap her arms Jillian’s belly feeling Max flutter in response. _Landslide_ by Stevie Nicks played through Holtzmann’s radio and the two women swayed to the music. Jill continued to stir and Abby held her close, eyes closed, resting her chin on the blonde’s shoulder.

It wasn’t uncommon for Abby to sleep over at Jill’s. She loved being the big spoon, rubbing Holtz’s growing belly. And Jillian loved the closeness she felt with Abby’s presence. Holtz still felt an emptiness when it was just she and Max. She felt guilty for this, but couldn’t dwell on it. Abby made her so happy. She had yearned for the feeling Abby gave her for her entire life—companionship…love. With Abby, it was unconditional. She’d been herself entirely, and yet Abby hadn’t left her, hadn’t abandoned her. There was no romantic sparks that flew between the two, just the sheer pleasure of being in the other’s company. This was healing Holtzmann, and she didn’t even know it.


	7. Terrifyingly Beautiful

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Trigger Warning - this chapter contains content that could be upsetting to some) xo

Holtz was seven months pregnant making breakfast home alone when she felt a sharp pain in her uterus. "Oooh," she managed to shuffle over to a chair, massaging her lower back which felt like someone was squeezing all of the oxygen out of her spinal cord. Before she could catch her breath it happened again, “Oww-uhh,” she cried, panic setting in.

She reached for her phone and called Abby. “Something’s wrong, Abs…nnggh…it hurts so much.”

“Jillian – listen to me – stay right there,” She could hear Jill panting, her voice strained. “You’re okay,” Abby soothed, “I’m calling an ambulance for you. I’ll meet you at the hospital.”

Abby knew to trust her friend. Jill was so tough. If she said something was wrong – it was. And better safe than sorry. She called 911.

“Yeah, Hi, Dr. Abby Yates here. My friend is in pre-mature labor. She needs an ambulance now – Contractions? – How should I know how far apart – Listen to me, shit face, you just get me that ambulance – and don’t you let anything happen to her! You hear me? So help me, God –” She gave them Jill’s address before hanging up and calling a cab to the hospital.

“Stay calm, Yates. You don’t get to freak out,” she lied to herself.

Abby nearly had to punch a nurse in the tits to get them to tell her what room Holtz was in. When she finally found her, Jillian was screaming from the pain, a look of relief flooding her face upon seeing Abby.

“I’m here, Jill, I’m here,” Abby shouted out of breath across the room. She shoved an attending out of the way, knocking over a tray full of medical utensils, before latching onto Jill’s outstretched hand.

“You’re okay,” Abby soothed, wiping the loose curls out of Jill’s face and tucking them behind her ears, “You’re okay.”

“It hurts…” Jill sobbed, squeezing Abby’s hand with unbelievable force.

“I know,” Abby gently placed a kiss to the blonde's sweat-soaked forehead, using her free hand to wipe Jill’s tears.

The doctor came in and began putting Jill’s feet in stirrups.

“Whoa, buddy, what are you doing there? Can’t you slow down her labor? Her baby needs to bake for at least two more months,” Abby barked.

“I’m afraid I can’t,” replied the doctor as calmly as he could, “but we have the best NICU team in the city. This baby is coming right now.”

“It’s too soon!” Jill cried. “She’s too small, Abby do something!”

Abby took Jillian’s face in her hands. “Listen, Holtzy, look at me. Max isn’t waiting any longer. She’s ready to meet you. Whatever happens, I’m so proud of you. You’re the bravest person I’ve ever known.”

Jill nodded as another contraction seized her body, “Owww,” Holtz cried arching her back. Abby put her forehead to Jill’s, “Come on, Jill, you got this. Push and breathe baby, you can do this.”

After an hour of intense contractions and pushing, Max Abigail Holtzmann was born, but there was no first cry.

“Let me see her! Where are you taking her??” Holtz was frantic. “Not my baby!” She sobbed.

The doctor gingerly placed Max on the tiny operating table near Jillian’s bed and began infant CPR – only as protocol – he knew it was no use. There was no heartbeat. Her lungs were not fully developed. This happened far more often than he cared to be a part of. After ten rounds of CPR, he called it.

The room went still. All of the air was sucked out and the world stopped.

Abby tried with everything in her being to hold it together but she could feel herself coming unglued. Tears falling freely. The doctor swaddled little Max and brought her near the bed. He was crying too. Into the silence he said, “I am so sorry for your loss. Would you like to hold your daughter before we take her downstairs?”

The words were unbearable, but Abby was right. Jillian was brave.

“Yes,” she said.

“I’ll give you two some time,” he said and stepped out.

Jill peered down at the tiny creature in her arms. Her little face was so serene. Her perfect lips were…blue. But she had Holtz’s exact, beautiful mouth and dimple. She was impossibly tiny. Jill traced her features with her index finger and began whispering to her.

“Hey Max. You’re safe now. You’re home. I’m sorry I didn’t get to know you in this world. Thank you for living inside of me for seven months and teaching me so much. I’m sorry I couldn’t get you safely here. Maybe your soul is safer with the stars,” she choked, “I love you…” Holtz’s tears were falling onto Max. Her face was scrunched up, as she lifted her eyes to look at Abby who was peering down at this beautiful baby Holtz created. Abby leaned down and kissed Max. “You’re beautiful, little one, I’m gonna take care of your mama for you. I promise.”

The doctor came back in. “I’m so sorry Jillian. I have to take her now.” Jill handed Max, so delicately, to the doctor and then collapsed onto Abby’s chest weeping.

“You did good, kid. You did so good,” Abby whispered into Jill’s ear soothingly.

Jill’s arms tightened around Abby as Abby rocked her gently. The exhaustion gripping both of them was overwhelming, but Abby wouldn't leave her side. Jillian couldn't explain this feeling in her heart. It was emptiness. It was pain. It was guilt. It was heartbreak. But under it all there was relief, and peace.

It was a complex and complicated feeling, but she trusted it. She trusted that the universe would take care of Max. That her existence wasn’t in vain.

Abby felt Holtzmann melt in her arms. Jill's head was heavy on her chest and this strange feeling of peace was transferred to Abby as well. How was life so excruciatingly unfair yet so terrifyingly beautiful in the same moment? Two of the most brilliant minds in science, yet neither of them could explain this phenomenon. Instead, they held onto each other, letting the sweetness of sleep wash over them.


	8. Erin

It would be a whole year before Erin Gilbert would walk into Holtzmann’s life and back into Abby’s. 

Leaving the hospital without Max was one of the most painful things Holtz ever had to endure. She told Abby she wanted to walk home and needed to do it alone.

As she neared her apartment, she looked up into the sun – the same bright star that had been burning for millions of years. Holtz stared into it, without her goggles, letting its warmth illuminate her. Making enough room in her heart to accept its glow. She smiled from ear to ear. For the first time in her life, she felt full. She was living.

Even in the midst of her greatest loss, she had found meaning no law of physics could explain.

She found her purpose: to love.

It was so simple, yet so profound.

Now here she is, a year and a half later, cooking dinner for this family that she loves more than anyone could ever possibly understand or comprehend.

This is her purpose. She is so grateful for every moment she gets to experience it.

“Smells good, Holtzy!” Patty exclaims, walking into the kitchen.

“You’re a talented little genius  _and_  the best chef in Manhattan.”

Holtzmann lifts the wooden spoon out of the pot, gesturing for Patty to come get a taste.

“Mmm, girl…you’ve outdone yourself tonight!”

Holtz winks at her beautiful friend and goes back to stirring, absentmindedly dancing to her 80’s hair metal music.

She’s using the spoon handle as her microphone, when Erin walks up to the second floor of the firehouse, followed by an apprehensive Abby, who hangs back.

Both women are soaked to the bone from rain. Erin’s eyes are bloodshot and her throat is hoarse from crying. She’s staring at Jillian – beautiful, sweet, brave Jillian – dancing to the beat of her own drum. Too pure for this world, Erin thinks.


	9. You Are My Sunshine

Earlier that day, Erin got a call about a ghost-sighting in a cemetery downtown. Typical. She went to go check out the validity before troubling the others. That’s when she spots Abby, placing flowers on a small grave at the back of the cemetery. Erin walks toward her but Abby is already walking away before Erin gets there.

When she sees the headstone where Abby placed the flowers, Erin’s blood runs cold.

Max Abigail Holtzmann

2015 – 2015

You are my sunshine.

Love, Mom

The air is chilly. Erin’s auburn hair is blowing in the damp air. Her grey sweater is wrapped tightly around her. Yellow, red, and orange leaves illuminate the pre-dusk sky. The grass is still a vibrant green. It doesn’t feel like they’re in the middle of one of the busiest cities in the world.

“Abigail Yates!” she shouts at Abby’s back, her voice cracking.

Abby, startled, turns to face her. She sees where Erin is standing and she knows she can’t lie to her best friend. Abby walks toward her and takes Erin’s hand. They walk in silence to sit under a giant oak tree.

Abby knows it’s not exactly her story to tell. But she also knows Jillian, who’s given her permission to be her mouth-piece when it comes to Max’s story. It’s too hard for Jill to relive. Abby also knows Erin, and her compassion and protective nature toward Holtz.

So, she tells her—everything.

Erin’s entire world is spinning like it’s coming into focus for the first time:

Holtzmann – who lights up every room she walks into

Holtzmann – who greets everyone she meets with a 1,000 watt smile

Holtzmann – who would run into a burning building to save a kitten

The most carefree, effervescent, beautiful nerd to exist had the most horrible thing to maybe ever happen to any person, happen to her and she survived. But more than that, she’s the most alive person Erin has ever known.

She thinks of all the times Holtzmann has had a kind word for her when she’s been sad, and how she winks at her with her sexy smile, and warms her heart with that gorgeous laugh.

She thinks about the bond between Abby and Holtz:

Their special handshake, Abby’s protectiveness over the quirky engineer.

And recalls in vivid detail the touching toast Jillian gave at the bar after they saved the city.

The feeling in Erin’s chest is too great to bare. Without saying anything, she takes Abby’s hand as the heaven’s open up and the rain starts to pour.

“You are my sunshine,” she thinks…

The grief in Erin’s chest comes pouring out into the night air like a it's faucet that’s been turned off for decades. She cries for every molecule in the universe and every ounce of pain that’s ever been felt.

She cries for the next twenty blocks to the firehouse, where she squeezes Abby’s hand, let’s go, and composes herself to head inside.


	10. Darling

Now she’s standing in front of Holtzmann and Jill knows. She knows where Abby went this afternoon and she knows why Erin’s eyes are bloodshot.

“I can’t…I can’t talk about it, Gilbert,” Jillian says timidly.

“I don’t need you too, darling.” Erin says, closing the gap between them.

Jillian swallows… “Darling,” she says, her dimple showing… “No one’s ever – “

And then Erin is kissing her – gently at first, lightly, like a butterfly, while tracing circles into the small of Holtz’s back.

She pushes her against the wall. Parting her lips with her tongue, she captures Jillian’s bottom lip between hers, gently sucking and drinking her in.

Jillian has never been kissed like this – ever. Every nerve-ending in her tiny body is on fire.

Erin pushes her body harder against Jill, feeling their breasts collide making her melt deeper into the kiss. She’s not sure if a minute or a year goes by but every time Erin feels Jill’s tongue against hers, she pulls her closer, cradles her softer, and is sure she’s going to burst into flame.

Erin has never felt more protective, possessive, or in awe of another person in her whole life. She pulls away to catch her breath and Jillian’s whole body is trembling in her arms.

“Darling…” Erin murmurs again.

“Yes?” Jill smiles, drunk on Erin’s kiss.

“I love you,” Erin finishes, her voice raspy from crying.

“I love you too, baby girl,” Holtzmann whispers, biting her lip to keep from devouring Erin right there in the kitchen.

“Ahem,” Abby coughs.

“Today has been maybe the second most emotional day of my life, and I for one, am starving,” she smiles.

“Food ready?” Patty hollers.

“They’ll have to fill Patty in on another day,” Erin thinks.

But Patty knows. When it comes to history, Patty always knows. Sixteen years younger than Patty, Jillian really is like her baby. And the older woman has developed a fondness for the little scientist that is unmatched.

All four women love each other, but Jill holds a unique place in each of their hearts. They all know she’s who they would protect first if the group got into trouble.

None of them ever want to find out what the world would be like without Jillian Holtzmann.

“Bon Appetite!” Jill exclaims, passing out plates for everyone. Her heart is full.


End file.
